Elsewhere: Flying Hamburger
by Zabbie Q
Summary: In the Japan show, Germany had two Nationals: Weltschaft and Flying Hamburger. This story is about the lesser known of the two.


It was an uncategorical law that a racer had to partner with a railcar. A serial murderer could sooner argue his way out of the infernal terminal and onto the Starlight's astral rails than a solo engine could show up on the biggest night of the year and compete unburdened. That did not pose a problem for the majority of the international locomotives who came once a year with coworkers, siblings or sweethearts in tow for the chance of being the world champion for the following twelve months, but in the case of the diesel multiple-unit coach, the Flying Hamburger (who was neither a locomotive nor built to pull cars), it was almost absurd to insist he couple with a carriage he would never haul again outside of the races. Yet that was how the game was played, and the Flying Hamburger faithfully followed the rules.

Although once the fastest diesel train on German rails, the Flying Hamburger had not had many opportunities to race in recent years, but now the blond male coach had pulled himself out of retirement. He had asked one of his coworkers at the Nuremberg museum to accompany him. Edel, the _Kanzelwagen_ from the _Blauer Enzian_ train, was a pretty blue carriage with several windows and an excellent temperament for racing. The two museum pieces had trained diligently for over a year for the regional German competition. To the shock of the nation, they had been one of the two final teams to head onto the international race in America. Hamburger and Edel had soon boarded a boat to cross the Atlantic alongside Weltschaft, the electric Class 103 engine, and his carriage, Diana the dining car from the _Deutsche Service-Gesellschaft der Bahn_.

Unfortunately, trouble had fallen upon both carriages within hours of each other. Diana had contracted food poisoning at the banquet held in the racers' honor (fortunately, the red caboose who sat next to her had helped Weltschaft carry her to the repair shop). On the way back to the hotel, Edel had fallen off a slippery embankment which had brought about the loss of two wheels on her left foot and damage to her brakes. (The quick thinking of the same red caboose spared her from drowning.) The American repair trucks had tried frantically to replace Edel's vintage bogeys, but as the racing hour ticked steadily nearer, Hamburger had to resign himself to the fact that he needed to find a new wagon if he had any hope of entering the race.

* * *

When the opening ceremonies had been interrupted by the electrical lights flickering violently and a consist of eight strange-looking trucks appearing to herald a late entry known as Electra, the Flying Hamburger did not immediately consider that he could benefit from the electrical upstart's arrival - at least, not until he noticed the pair of pretty blonde tank cars from Electra's train.

After Greaseball publicly selected Dinah (of course), the rest were allowed to disperse and seek partners from Control's awaiting rolling stock, but Flying Hamburger made a beeline for the tank twins. Weltschaft had the same idea, and the younger electric swooped in, and one of the sisters hitched onto his couplings with a sultry smile - fortunately, Weltschaft had not taken the cute one.

As the diesel coach approached the remaining tank car, the blonde woman gave Hamburger a smile and a smoldering glance. Where coaches had cabins with windows on their shoulders, she had the cylinder shape of her tank. Instead of frills and fabrics, her exposed metal plates clung to her chassis in a way that did not play coy with the imagination.

"Hey there, Herr Train," she said in that electronic voice which the rest of Electra's team had, but Hamburger thought she sounded decidedly more pleasant. She smoothed her hand over her short hair, following the red stripes. "What's your name?"

He nodded in greeting. " _Fliegender Hamburger_."

"Joule Two, Electra's dynamite truck."

He thought she was joking until he looked at her round tank shoulders and saw LIQUID NITRO GLYGERIN across her front - but, he told himself, that peacock Electra wouldn't be dumb enough to have her carry actual nitroglycerin on race night.

Hamburger met her blue eyes. He did not know how much she would have read about him in the American newspapers, but she was clearly not adverse to talking with a museum train only two years shy of sixty - if anything, she looked like she wanted to get to know him a lot better very soon.

"Would you like to race?" he asked, giving his metal biceps a casual flex.

Joule 2's red mouth stretched further upward. "Well, I always had a taste for diesel trains," she purred.

He turned his couplers toward her, and her fingers slipped around the loops, but not before one hand appreciatively slid over his striped arm. If ghosts actually existed, his conservative mother would have no doubt come back from the other side to haunt them both, but Hamburger felt comfortable giving Joule 2 a smirk of approval before he pulled her away.

His schedule had listed him for heat two, so he took her to the reserved balcony-like ledge where racers could watch the competition. Flying Hamburger was not one for small talk, but he listened to Joule 2's cute electronic chatter as they waited for the first heat to begin.

As Joule 2 described their journey across the non-electric track of America and how Electra had cleverly used his two freezer trucks and two high-voltage armaments trucks as a battery so that he would not have to rely on a diesel locomotive to taxi him, several female coaches in maid uniforms came out from a nearby shed with trays of healthy snacks and drinks - and Flying Hamburger tried not to stare at their feet, which had no wheels, just flat soles like a human's shoe.

Joule 2 leaned closer to the diesel racer. "I heard they recycle damaged trains in this yard, but I didn't think there'd be this many Walkers," she observed. "Guess Control doesn't like to throw away any of his toys. That rusted steamer would have been scrapped on any other line."

Hamburger jerked a nod and focused on the race track below, rubbing his own thigh which was eight months new. He and Edel had had to argue hard for the replacement limb as the cabin stored in his original leg had been removed decades ago. As one of the Walkers came up to them with her tray, he politely refused and tried not to imagine himself hobbling around on his good leg, doing whatever odd job Control assigned in order to keep himself surviving until the next paycheck.

Suddenly, Control's voice arose from the PA system to start introducing the racers. One by one the seven engines and EMU power cars rolled out with their partners and waved to the applauding audience. The partners had already donned their face guards while the locomotives carried their helmets under their arms. Hamburger saw that Turnov the Russian locomotive rolled out with the red caboose who had rescued Edel, and he clapped enthusiastically for the pair.

"There's Wunny!" Joule 2 cheered as Weltschaft pulled her sister into the spotlight and followed the directions of several male Walkers in overalls who waved orange marshaling wands. "Wouldn't it be a scream if we were both in the final?" Joule 2 chuckled. "Twin German engines with identical dynamite trucks."

Hamburger stiffened. "Weltschaft is not my twin."

Joule 2 laughed in that electronic way. "I know. I didn't mean _literally_ , hot stuff." She bumped her metal hip against his playfully, and he momentarily forgot his annoyance. "Humans over here get a kick when they see trains acting out a Doublemint commercial."

Hamburger looked down at his verdant costume. It was traditional for competitors from the same country to wear similar racing attire to show a united front. Hamburger had obediently swapped his eye-pleasing violet and cream paint for the green-and-gray striped suit and chest plate with a silver _Dopeladler_. The two racers' similar short blond hair further made them look like a pair of vehicular Dioscuri. Now the only noticeable difference between the two German machines was that Weltschaft's helmet needed a pantograph in order to ride his electric track.

Joule 2 gave her sister one last wave, and she looked over her shoulder at the green train. "Do you have any family, Herr Hamburger?"

Hamburger gave a polite smile. "I had a brother," he said. "Now I live in _Nürnberg_ alone."

Her blue eyes gave him an empathetic look that held a tint of bitterness. "We used to have a Joule Three when we lived on the Frisco," she said, "but that was before Electra hired us." She looked down just as the superstar challenger rolled out with an observation car with pink hair. She waved at the sparkling electric engine, a look of unadulterated affection on her countenance. "He's a better boss than ten railroads put together," she said firmly.

Hamburger nodded, and they both fell silent as the sirens wailed. The racers lined up beneath a mechanical platform which rose up. Control counted down from ten, and the seven trains charged ahead into the first tunnel.

Hamburger tried to observe the racers and take notes for if he made it to the final, but as the trains plunged ahead, the diesel coach found his mind wandering back to just why he had trained for over a year to be in the race tonight.

* * *

"What's this train, Papa?" a high-pitched voice had squeaked by his side door. Hamburger had snorted awake with a start - or at least as much as a train could start in work mode.

"Speak softly," the human father had warned. "They said at the entrance that most trains sleep during the day."

 _Too late_ , Hamburger had thought, doing his best to settle back down on his track. He often slept during museum hours, waking when the human guests left for the night and the roster of relics could resume their racing-mode forms - a bit of a misnomer, since it had been years since any of them had raced. Hamburger considered bringing out his human-like avatar to glare at the pair, but he was not one to be rude to museum guests, so he did his best to regain his slumber.

The father and son had continued to speak in softer tones, but Hamburger could still hear them. "My grandmother rode on the _Fliegender Hamburger_ ," the father had told the boy. "She said the food was some of the best she had ever tasted."

 _B would have liked to hear that_ , the old diesel train thought with an inward smile. Though their multiple-unit body had been built with a kitchen, _Deutsche Reichsbahn_ had hired human Mitropa caterers to serve their passengers rather than have the twin trains cook. Even so, his brother had admired a Mitropa dining car who frequented their home terminal, and he had learned some culinary tricks from the human caterers to impress her. He had gotten good enough that the Mitropa team had allowed him to help sometimes.

"What happened to its wagons, Papa?" the boy had asked. He might have been six or eight. "Did it carry a lot? Like ten?"

"The book I read said there were only two cars, called Wagen A and B," the father had explained. "I think this is A."

"Where's B?"

"Scrapped, I think. Maybe twenty years ago," the father had replied sadly. "There wasn't much about them in my book, but the twins held a speed record for several years."

"Not anymore," the boy had said with a superior air. "Greaseball is faster. He's the fastest train in the whole world, and he doesn't need a twin to do it."

"Shush," the father had warned again before he had added, "Time changes things. The older trains did their best with the technology they had when they were still new. The Hamburger can't help when he was built."

The humans had left then, and the exhibit had fallen quiet again, but Hamburger had stayed awake, and his wheels had trembled with rage, rattling his windows until the custodian came over to ask if he needed to get a mechanic.

That night after he had switched to his bipedal form, the diesel wagon had begun to research how to enter the world race. It had been a struggle - the museum staff had been against it at first, and the other trains had tried to talk him out of it - but Hamburger would not back down. He had secured Edel the Kanzelwagen as his partner, acquired his replacement leg, and trained rigorously despite never pulling a car. His older limbs had taken a while to get reconditioned to high speeds, but he had not minded. He had something to fight for: the memory of the one train he had once thought he would never be without.

Nobody but the most committed rail enthusiasts might have cared about Wagen B as a person - what did it matter to the public that B had liked to play pranks on the neighbors or enjoyed their mother's _Bienenstich_ on their birthday or that he hiccoughed after refueling? - but Wagen A could do something to bring attention back to his fallen brother. He and Wagen B had worked too hard in their youth to achieve their high speeds for it to be rendered irrelevant. Why should the world forget it because some American diesel locomotive ran a race every year? Why should their glory days be just another blurb in a railroad history book?

Why should the world forget B?

* * *

"Ooh, brutal!" Joule 2 groaned. "And he had the lead for so long."

Hamburger snapped out of his reverie to see Greaseball and the others rush past Turnov, who had crashed upon a hill beside the race track. His caboose partner struggled to brake, having uncoupled at full speed. The red wagon managed to slow, and he followed after a Walker marshal, who ushered him toward what looked like a staff exit.

Hamburger furrowed his blond brow, making a quick count of the remaining vehicles. "Where's Weltschaft?" he asked, searching in vain for the green figure.

"Didn't you see?" returned Joule with an incredulous look. "He started punching Greaseball, and Wunny went after Dinah. Then Greaseball swung him head first into a ditch."

"Hmm."

The racers bolted into the last tunnel, and in seconds they emerged and made a dash for the finish line. As the mechanical platform rose from the ground to welcome them, Electra pulled ahead at the last moment, tying with Greaseball as they zoomed beneath the covering. Hashamoto sped steadily behind them while Espresso brought up the rear: the four finalists of heat one.

Joule 2 put her fingers to her mouth and whistled like a human. "Go, Electra!" she cheered, waving her arms above her head. "You show those old trains how it's done, baby!"

Hamburger grimaced and turned away. "Let's start heading to the track," he said, choosing to ignore her choice of words.

Joule 2 nodded and opened a latch on her leg. She fished out a gray face guard and strapped it to her head before she hitched onto him. Hamburger rolled back down the hill, maneuvering around the Walkers waitresses, and followed the signs to the starting gate. Weltschaft had not placed in the heat. That left Hamburger to make his bid for Germany.

He took a deep breath to calm the sudden flutter in his abdomen.

A team of Walkers at the racers entrance directed them to their spot in the line of train teams. As Hamburger braked behind Vladimir the other Russian champion, who was coupled with the white-faced crane car in Electra's employ, Joule 2 suddenly snorted. "Wrenchy, look at the back," she tittered, reaching around the diesel racer to poke her coworker.

Hamburger turned his head. He at first saw Coco the orange TGV with a wooden smoking car, both of whom waited in front of Pendelino the yellow Italian train with a matching yellow boxcar with the number 2 drawn on his cheek. Then he noticed the puffs of black smoke coming from behind Pendelino. An old steamer had filed in behind the competitors, lugging a hopper filled to the brim with aggregates. He reminded Hamburger of Nordgau, the museum's oldest resident steamer, but this American engine was not so carefully preserved. Obviously, he was there to race.

"He's gonna kill himself," Joule 2 giggled.

"I doubt he'll go fast enough to cause strain," drawled Wrench before the bored truck turned her attention back to Vladimir. "Older rolling stock rarely do."

"He isn't _that_ old," said Hamburger softly.

The yellow boxcar and the smoking car unhitched from their partners and approached the old man, seeming to plead with him. The steamer shook his head and patted them both on the cheek. "I must follow the will of the Starlight, children," his booming voice carried down the track.

 _Viel Glück_ , thought Hamburger, looking away.

It was then that Control called the audience and racers to attention, and Hamburger and the rest turned forward and rolled out at timed intervals, waving to the applause. Soon enough, the octagon-shaped platform arose on four trussed pillars, and the contestants filed underneath.

As Control counted down from ten, Wagen A of the Flying Hamburger crouched in preparation. _This is for you, B_.

Then they were off.

THE END

* * *

A/N:

A great big shout-out to Kenchiro Maeno and his video of the 1990 2nd Japan show. I use a little license because it kinda looks like the racers come from different directions when they're being introduced (although it's hard to tell for sure), but I wanted Hamburger to see Poppa.

At this point of time, I'm not entirely sure if the carriage from the _Blauer Enzian_ was in the Nuremberg Transport Museum at the time of the Japan tour, so I elected to incorporate artistic license. I apologize for any mistakes I've made with the German language and history, so if you spot an error, feel free to PM me with the correct information.

The _Fliegender Hamburger_ is a fascinating train to view through the lense of the StEx universe. He was built in 1932, so in 1990 when the 2nd Japan tour ran, he was the oldest of the National trains, possibly older than Rusty. Yet despite being a museum train that had been retired for about three decades, he decides to enter the world race and show those younger racers a thing or two. In the footage available of the 2nd Japan tour, Flying Hamburger wins a spot in the final during the 2nd heat, meaning he did a lot better than the much younger Weltschaft. A lot of the information I found of the real train came from both the English and German Wikipeida articles as well as the website, _Railway Wonders of the World_.


End file.
